Don't Stop

A/N – just a quick little one – I was watching Dawson’s Creek, the one where Dawson and Joey kissed for the first time, and this popped into my head (for some bizarre reason). Right, got this out and now back to ‘HP and the Battle for Light’ – chapter 7 should be uploaded today or tomorrow…

Hermione was running, sprinting as fast as she could, towards the place were a brilliant flash of light had just illuminated the dusk sky. She vaguely heard someone calling out her name, telling her to stop – but she didn’t, she couldn’t. The light came from where he had been fighting, and she had to know, that was all that mattered.

She didn’t notice what was still taking place around her, how the death eaters all collapsed in pain the moment the flash of light had struck or how the air had suddenly grown deathly still – all she knew was she had to find him – she had to know.

He had been some distance from where she had been fighting her own war and it seemed like a lifetime until she reached the now flattened part of the forest where the epicentre of the Final Battle had taken place. Hermione stopped, her mind trying to comprehend what she was seeing – ancient trees flattened like matchsticks, the earth charred and blackened. Her eyes kept searching, her brain refusing to believe the thought that no-one could have survived the devastation in front of her.

She finally saw him, a mere lump on the earth but his form, his shape was so familiar to her she knew it was him. Once again she was running, blindly making her way towards the still body on the ground. Her mind was consumed with a pain that seemed unnatural, a pain that she tried hard to ignore because it meant that she had lost him, lost part of her – and that just couldn’t happen.

As she got closer she once again stopped – he moved. She watched in numb awe as he rolled over from his back, trying to force himself to sit upright, leaning heavily on his arms as he pushed against the ground and into a sitting position. Hermione made the last few steps in a dash and was quickly by his side.

He looked at her blankly, as if he didn’t know who she was, but she didn’t care – he was alive! With tears running down her cheeks, she began to run her hands over his face, checking for blood or anything else that could take him away from her. He just sat there and let her do her inspection, her hands moving down his arms while her eyes covered the rest of him.

He was weak, and he was battered and bruised – but he was alive.

“Did…did I do it,” he croaked out, his voice barely above a whisper.

Hermione looked over her shoulder to see a body a couple of meters away, obviously Voldemort and obviously dead. That wasn’t important to her right now as she turned her attention back to Harry.

“Yes Harry,” she whispered, holding his face gently in her hands, “you did it.” She looked at the relief that hit his wonderful eyes, and her tears began to fall more freely. All the love she felt for him, all the anguish, the fear, the hope – everything began to hit her. She had nearly lost him, lost her soul, without him knowing how she felt. So long she had watched him and been there for him – she couldn’t hide how she felt anymore.

She loved him, loved him more than life itself and he was alive – so she kissed him, spontaneous and gentle. The touch of his lips on hers, chaste and pure, still sent a heat throughout her body, her heart beating as if it would burst. But he didn’t respond and after a few moments her brain finally registered what she was doing – hastily she pulled back from him, dropping her hands self consciously to her sides and looking embarrassedly at her knees.

She could feel the heat radiating off her face and it didn’t matter that they were in the middle of a scared forest at the end of a bitter war. Hermione felt like an eighteen year old teenager who had just made a huge mistake with a boy she cared about so deeply.

“Don’t stop.” His voice was raw and tired; his words making her look nervously up at him.

“Harry, I’m sorry…” she began.

“Don’t stop,” he repeated, trying to move closer to her but the effort seemed to exhaust him. Immediately her concern overrun her embarrassment and she reached out for him once more, gently holding his shoulders to keep him up right. She looked into his eyes, as if they could say more as speaking was so obviously a struggle for him – all she saw was weariness and…hope?

With her heart still beating rapidly in her chest, she leant forward and once more touched his lips with hers. This time he responded, his mouth moving open ever so slightly, the tip of his tongue running over her bottom lip. The feeling was electrifying and for a moment she forgot where she was. She moved closer to him, drawing him to her gently as her mouth opened for him, her tongue tentatively joining his own.

Hermione was lost within him and at the same time felt so complete and at home. This was where she was meant to be, this was why she met him all those years ago on the train, this was why she had spent half of her lifetime at his side, this was the only place she could ever picturing herself being.

“About bloody time,” came a voice from behind her, a voice she recognised. Breaking away from Harry, she looked up into the grinning face of Ron, “sorry to break this slightly disturbing but no doubt tender moment up but, well, everyone’s having kittens about Harry so we better get him to the hospital and checked out.” Hermione nodded before turning back to Harry, her concern replacing the want to kiss him again and again. Seeing more activity around them as various people came to confirm that Lord Voldemort was indeed dead, Hermione protectively sheltered Harry from the stares and whispers as Ron stood guard, making sure no-one came close. Silently, she prepared to Apparate him to St Mungo’s.

“Thank you,” he muttered softly, interrupting her thoughts.

“What for?” she asked, curious.

“For giving me a reason to win,” he breathed, smiling slightly as he fell wearily into her embrace, his eyes closing.

“You’re welcome,” she whispered, tenderly moving a clump of hair away from the lightening bolt scar on his forehead and then with a smile and a crack, they both disappeared.